A Tale of Summertime Woe

If you have a school-age child, you may be spending part of your summer getting your kid to do workbooks in preparation for the coming year. Or, if your school-age child is like mine, you may be spending your summer in a circle of useless, endless negotiation about the aforementioned workbooks. You may be hearing a lot about what summer is supposed to be, and how you're "ruining my life" and how they "really hadn't put work in the plan for today." Sound familiar? If not, I envy you. Oh, how I envy you.

Until today, that is. This morning, MasterP (pretty much) voluntarily did his work without (too much) complaining. I was as surprised as you! He even asked me to take pictures so that we could remember this day. There were some conversational gems...

Working on sight-recognition words (the text was a little smudged so he missed one or two that he normally would get):
"Not quite. It's 'could'."
"Oh yeah. 'Could.' That's a classic."

The conversation after he finished:
"Mom? Mom, would you say this was the best I ever did workbooks, an average time or worse than usual?"
"Hmmm. Well, it was pretty good."
"Mom. I really need to know your full answer here."

What do you suppose he has up his sleeve? A survey?

I pushed my luck, though. I offered him a bribe -- I mean incentive -- to complete additional pages each day. He ran (and I can hear the lovely strains of Lego xBox now). I knew I was going too far.

Is it too soon to start wishing for fresh produce?

The Cheverly Community Market begins the new season on May 24. Looking out on a cold, dreary day, May 24 seems like an eternity. In fact, the entire idea that May is on the horizon seems to be quite a reach.

We also belong to a great CSA farm, and I really look forward to my weekly trip to the farm, and to learning about all sorts of produce that I'd never bothered with before (I made lots of swiss chard last summer, and it was fantastic.) Last year, Paul learned (from wise old Uncle Erik) that the beautiful brown cows standing in the fields were really only walking hamburgers. Far from being frightened by that idea, Paul embraced it. Every week we'd go get our share, and every week, Paul would proclaim something (loudly) about walking hamburgers. I think he may have offended the sensibilities of some of the groovier farm patrons, but he's right. It turns out that you can buy a share of a cow (or possibly the whole thing) and have at it. I know people who do it, and I can attest to the excellent beef. Still, walking hamburgers...